I Need a Hero

Steve wasn't waking up. Even with the medicine he should have by now, Tony was sure of it. Bruce said it was because he didn't want to wake up. The trauma, the memories, the pain, all of it even, was keeping him from consciousness. He stayed where he was, peaceful and mostly silent.

Tony had stopped touching him within the first few days. He'd been smoothing his hair back, barely grazing his thumb over his forehead when Steve had screamed. Just screamed and cried and absolutely wouldn't stop until Bruce forced him back to sleep with a sedative in his IV.

"It's alright," Bruce had assured, patting Tony's shoulder. "He just got scared, Tony. Something triggered-"

"Won't happen again," Tony breathed, sitting back in his chair. He hadn't touched him since, hadn't had the strength to try.

He talked instead. He muttered, barely audible enough to hear himself, for hours on end. He told him stories about stupid shit he'd done when he was in college, hell, stuff he'd done last week. He talked about their dates, their fights, his fears, his wants. He spent an entire day telling him every single thing he loved about him. He talked about cars, about his father and what he'd been told about Steve, girls he'd dated, men he'd thought about dating, anything he could think of so long as they were alone and well out of earshot.

Getting him to eat more than a mouthful at a time was impossible, keeping alcohol from him improbable and sleep out of the question. Times between Steve getting wheeled away for tests and a few surgeries was utter agony to endure, anguish to watch.

Everyone tried to speak to him, to get him to understand and listen that it was alright to go home and sleep. They'd keep an eye on him, they'd call him if anything happened. They tried to tell him he needed to eat because god knew he was of no use to Steve dead.

It didn't work. Nothing did.

And Steve slept.

"…Just get some new clothes, take a shower and come back. Please," Bruce appealed, glancing at Steve sound asleep in the cot behind him.

"I can't. I need to be here when he wakes up," Tony muttered, tone flat, void of almost everything.

"It's been ten days, Tony. Half an hour won't kill you. Please," he begged, almost desperate.

He stayed silent, stony-faced and unmoving. "If I do," he said, finally loud enough for human ears, voice hoarse as if he'd been screaming, "will you all leave me the fuck alone?"

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, not sure whether to laugh or yell. "Yeah, we'll leave you the fuck alone. But you have to leave first."

Reluctantly, Tony stood, staring at his husband, the constant ache in his chest giving a particularly nasty throb. "Has…" He cleared his throat, still not used to speaking. "Has anybody found anything about…about who hurt him?" Bruce shook his head.

"No, but we're looking. Everyone's doing everything they can to find who hurt him," he smiled a little, in spite of everything. "Never seen Phil so angry before."

Tony nodded, reaching to touch him out of pure reflex and retracting immediately, remembering. "If…if anything-"

"I know," Bruce nodded, patting his shoulder. "I'll call you. Just go get some air."

Get up. Now. You have to get up right now. Come on. Hurry up or they'll hit you.

They're gonna hit me harder if I get up.

But you have to.

He shook, every fiber of his being telling him to stay where he was, every single muscle in his arms shrieking in protest as he carefully pushed himself back up to his knees, coughing wetly before standing again.

The room laughed, the assailant in front of him -the same man who was responsible for taking his powers away- shaking his head.

"You know, I'm not sure if this is stupidity or bravery, Steven," he smirked, chuckling softly. Steve swayed a little, blood on his face and seeping down his back, staring at the whip in his hands. "You know I'll stop when you stay down, right?"

"N-not gonna happen," he breathed. Laughter again. He chewed his lip, chest heaving, naked in front of this room of strangers that only laughed when he was in pain. He stayed where he was, never breaking eye contact with him, not giving in for a second. He screamed again when the leather snapped over his shoulder. He staggered to his knees, coughing softly.

"You're gonna break, Steven, it's only a matter of time. Weak as you are I'd start thinking about choosing your battles," he warned, striking him again, grinning when he cried out.

"I'm not weak!" He bellowed, gritting his teeth, coughing, hot tears in his eyes.

"Oh?"

A hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against a wall. He fought, the tears sliding down his cheeks now in his effort to breathe. "Then what do you call this, hm?" He clawed feebly at his hands, feet off the ground. "I call this weak, Steven. I call what I've made you, who you really are, I call that weak. Look at you! One hundred pounds of disease and nothing. Your special sauce is gone and so is any worth you had to anyone. Hubby included."

Steve shook his head, coughing hard when his neck was released. He pressed himself back against the wall, trembling. His wounds throbbed, throat raw, looking up at him with a set jaw. "Th-that's not true," he managed, chest shaking.

Fucking asthma.

"You don't think so?" He condescended, holding his face, chuckling when he attempted to throw him off. "You don't think Tony Stark would want anything to do with you like this? All scrawny, gangly and ugly? Hm? He's a billionaire, kid. He could have anyone he wants, anyone on earth. So why would he settle for something like you?"

"Tony l-loves-"

"You'd like to think so," he laughed. "Steven, you love him so much more than he loves you. So dependent on him. And I know why." The man's hand traveled down his chest to his hip, the other fisting his hair to keep his head still. Steve grunted, squirming fruitlessly. The man brought his lips too close to his mouth and he winced. "You're attached to him because he's the one and only person that's ever had stomached through touching you," he breathed. "You have the same mentality as a sixteen year-old girl after she's been fucked for the first time. But Tony…" He grimaced, mocking him. "Tony's a bit of a slut, isn't he?"

"Stop it," he hissed, voice hard but frightened.

"He doesn't need you, he doesn't want you," he breathed, tracing his lips.

"Stop, please," he demanded, voice wavering.

"Here's what I'm going to do," he said slowly. "I'm going to torture you until all you can do is beg. Then I'm going to show you just how much sex it takes to make your heart as numb as Tony's. I'll show you how fucking means absolutely nothing."

"He married-"

"When you were pretty," he assured, patting his cheek. "And now you're not."

"Stop, stop it, now, please-" He broke off into a shriek, laughter echoing through his ears, the knife twisting in his shoulder forcing his knees to buckle and forcing him to the floor.

"Just a matter of time."

He splashed water over his face, rinsing the rest of the foam off his face from shaving, taking a few deep breaths. He'd packed a few of his things away in a bag, managed to get an entire granola bar down and some water without puking.

He'd never been so scared in his life, not ever. The quiet around him didn't help. It only made the echoes of Steve's voice, wavering and terrified when he'd found him, his screams, his sobbing that much louder in his head. At least the sterile smell of the hospital was out of his nose for a minute.

He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes.

"Okay," he whispered. "I, um, I don't do this. I don't think I've ever done this before, but…I don't know." He cleared his throat, brow creased. "I don't believe in You. But Steve does. And I believe in him, so... So please, please, if You're up there, if You've ever needed a reason to intervene and help someone, it's him. He's…he's good." He felt tears that never seemed to run out well in his eyes. "He's brave, and strong, and so kind…He's everything You could want in a human being. So please, for his sake," his voice cracked. "Just help him. Please."

The tears slid down his cheeks, which he hastily wiped away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"He-hello?" He breathed, mildly panicked, nearly dropping it.

"Tony, he's awake."